#I've been procrastinating on this for three weeks y'all it's been BAD

[brown-little-robin]

I'M SO BAD AT PHONE CALLS TO THE CAR PLACE HELP

[notexactlyrocketscience]

~ on social media and blogging ~

Basically the only thing I've done in my last 24 posts (yes, I counted) is vent about my first semester at UTSA. Often repetitively.

A little backstory: You wouldn't know it from looking at me, my room, or my closet (especially not my closet) but I like to put things into boxes, arrange them in the most efficient way possible. Even when my room or notes are messy, I know exactly where my red scarf is (at the bottom of my closet where it fell from the hanger the other day while I was hurrying for school), where my flier for tomorrow's event is (somewhere in the middle of the pile of papers on my desk where I put it last week) and which emails I need to re-check tonight (the weekly newsletter, the extra-credit intructions, and the mid-semester meeting notice).

I despise any and all class-notes that aren't done exactly the way I like them—which is using as little repetition and words as possible. Whenever I write, I Google, copy and paste em dashes and make sure there are no spaces on either side. For a 600 word limit, my work will more often than not have exactly 600 words because I don't want to waste any. I use Google Calender to stay on schedule. Planners intimidate me because there's no limit to what can be done with them, and although I want to start a bullet journal, I'm not going to until I find a uniform format that feels right to me.

I don't get to doing it everyday, but at least around once a week or two I get my room, closet and school stuff together again (my person is a lost cause). Delaying this process is something that stresses me out quite a bit ... and is something I do regularly. Especially since the year before last, I feel like I'm in a constant state of burnout (which doesn't make any sense because I'm completely responsibility-free right now compared to other kids my age) and I procrastinate towards everything. EVERYTHING.

So yes, I've technically been spiralling slow-mo (and have been bewildered at myself) for the last couple (going on three) years now ... But back to my point.

I used to write a lot of journal entries. Extremely detailed ones. I spent hours on them every day. I have entire years of my life documented minute-to-minute—I am not even kidding. Once I fell out of that habit (cough the last two years happened) I was never able to pick it back up again (trust me, I tried).

Remember how I like to put things into boxes? The same goes for my feelings. The worst I could ever feel isn't angry or sad or desperate. No, the worst I could ever feel is not knowing what I feel. That's the only feeling that really scares me, dries out my soul. Everything is a mess and can't be put into their places anymore: I'm distracted, unsettled. Behind my eyes is a rainstorm gone wrong, a broken window, a gale whistling in and whipping every piece of paper in my workshop out of place, no end in sight.

When Instagram came into the picture a few years ago, that was in many ways my first step from hiding to bravery. For the first time, I had this space to express myself that was totally under my control, and it was empty. Devoid of prior expectations. For the first time, I was stepping forward and being myself in public, and in that way finding myself too. I'd be lying if I said that I'd be the very same person that I am right now if this hadn't been part of my life.

It gives me peace to be able to neatly document moments of my life here. It's not as time-consuming and as big a commitment as journaling, and somehow the pictures I take randomly gives me motivation to write something they make me feel, which is huge, since at this point this is the only form of creative expression I still indulge in, and one of the only things that make me feel like I have control anymore.

Gasp. I know it's social media, so this might sound superficial and naive to some. Believe me, I constantly battle the same feelings, internalized. Do I do it for attention? For the mini serotonin rush every time those little heart notifications appear? For human connection that I'm missing? Maybe. It's hard to know.

What I do know is that it's empowering to be able to write all this and let it loose for the public to see, ignore, read, dismiss, judge, and then to still be able to hold onto my paranoid sanity. I'm still not as brave as I'd like to be. Sometimes a wave of instinct to delete half my posts will engulf me to near-suffocation. But every single one of my silly, weird, random too-much-information, and borderline innapropriate posts are still out there. Because every time I feel that way, I clench my jaw and tell myself it's temporary and I'll regret it if I act on it. And it's true. Every day I succeed is another day that I choose not to run and hide like I've done too many times in the past. It's one step forward into caring less and understanding other people care less, and just breathing freely without worrying. It's a step towards freedom, confidence.

... I'm this bad behind a screen just talking about everyday things that don't even matter, that only a handful of people will read (s/o if you do. Thank you—means a lot!)—imagine what I'm like in actual social contexts, at the centre of attention in a crowded room.

Well ... I'll let you guys know when I finally stop running and find out for myself. Till then, I guess y'all are just stuck with me, as I am, right now.

[end]

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